The Mourning After
by Ophidian Blue
Summary: On this night, there are no stars. And although they predictably can't leave each other alone, love is not in the air. ChaseXWuya, oneshot.


**A/N: ChaseXWuya. Oneshot. R&R, please; your comments and/or encouragement are important to me.**

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**the mourning after**

On this night, there are no stars.

The crescent moon is a hollow smile in a sky of flawless midnight, lingering above the entrance to the demon's haven. And beyond the twisting corridors patrolled by the damned, the door to his bedchamber swings softly shut.

In a far corner of the room, an ink-black panther purrs and mews uneasily ("_Let him stay or I'm leaving_."), watches the woman enter with comprehending cobalt eyes. He raises his head from its pillow of paws, languorous in the heated half-light.

But he does not approach his master's mistress.

The human half of his soul stirs, and his animal tail twitches.

The witch goddess walks like a flame, swaying hips hugged by black silk. Permanent tears etched in black ink melt into her eyes, and the transgressions of her former life shade the beauty in her gaze.

Across ancient, gilded walls, darkness and light engage each other in war. The candles cast shifting shadows, blackening the demon's bone-white skin, shining in the golden slits that are his eyes. He is anchored to the center of the floor, arms crossed.

Waiting.

"Sorry to keep you," his mistress murmurs hotly, although she's earlier than usual. It's a ploy of hers; she fixes her stare upon him, but her eyes only glitter under their blanket of shadows.

He smiles.

_("Sometimes, when you smile at me, I forget my name.")_

"Have you been waiting long?" she asks.

"An eternity." His words fall soft upon ears that only half hear endearments.

She lets him taste her lips briefly. "Good," she says, pulling away. "The waiting-

"-is the best part," he finishes, though he has never agreed with that sentiment.

_("I think the devil I conjure in your absence is more beautiful than you are."_  
_"Probably. But I doubt he's as good with his hands.")_

She nods her head slowly, as if beneath water and not candelight. "Exactly," she says. "But, Chase? Don't finish my sentences. I hate that."

"I'm sorry," he lies.

He loosens the sash at her waist and she sheds the simple garment like a snake shedding its skin. It whispers down her dark legs into a pool of black at her feet.

Stretching, she blossoms under his gaze, all amber skin and flame-red hair.

_("You're like a rose in the devil's garden."_  
_"And you're like God's serpent; you know, the one who wouldn't shut up.")_

"Have I become your favorite servant?" she asks, slipping willow-thin arms around his neck. "That would make me happy." Drops of sweat crawl down his cool skin. She tastes them with her tongue and he shudders.

_("You taste so much better when you're trembling.")_

"Are you my servant?" he asks, distracted by the feverish trail her lips are laying across his throat. Or am I yours?

Eyes like shards of jade narrow. A self-satisfied smile captures her mouth, indicative of dangerous thoughts. "Listen," she whispers, dangerously. "You are the devil. Which means these," she says, spreading not-so-idle hands against the muscles of abdomen, "are all yours."

And once again, he becomes her prisoner.

She stares at him for a moment, sees the surrender in his face, and her silky laughter tickles his ear.

_("Do you think it wise to snicker at devils?"_  
_"Only before I fuck them. Never during.")_

She makes short work of his belt and undresses him in a few graceful movements. Unlike the demon, the witch goddess finds nothing in this procedure worth savoring. She doesn't notice the pleading in his eyes, the way he tells lies with his silence. But then, he doesn't want her to.

Not anymore.

The candlelight is fainter now. Shadows and light roll over each other in passion and the dull light bathes her brown body as she drags him to the floor.

_("Beds are for lovers."_  
_"Are we not lovers?"_  
_"Ha! Says the serpent to Eve. It doesn't matter what you say; I will never love you.")_

She is like lava sliding up his body, pressing hot thighs against his sides. He raises his hands to her face and manages to brush his fingers across her cheeks before his wrists are slammed to the floor.

"Stop it!" she snaps. She softens the fury in her eyes with a smile, then captures his mouth in a savage kiss.

Beyond them, the panther emits a low growl and canters about the shadows, whimpering. He is never content.

The witch goddess laughs against the demon's lips, squeezes his bones between her fingers. She tastes like she smells; like some rare, smoky flower, deceptively sweet to mask the metallic undertones of poison.

When at last she pulls away, he is breathless and craving her elsewhere. She stares down at him, something wicked in her eyes, and he begins to consider the devil she conjures in his absence.

_("So you'll never love me."_  
_"I can never love again."_  
_"Why?"_  
_"You wouldn't understand."_  
_"Was he so important to you?"_  
_"No. I said you wouldn't understand...")_

But as always, he hardly has time to lament. Her venom burns through his bloodstream, intoxicating him, erasing the world beyond his bedchamber and time beyond the present. As she takes him into her body, he shuts his eyes, savoring the slick, beautiful torment she rains upon him.

And as always, the name she eventually cries into the night is more beautiful than his.


End file.
